and stared into her eyes all the way from the front. Just the slightest smile creased his lips which made her heart jump with happiness. Even here, the man knew just the right thing to do to make her love him even more.
As she looked around, she naturally began to wonder about her wedding. Would it be here, in this very church? Yes, she wanted that, she realized. The people here, her friends could attend. It felt good to know that she had friends. People she could trust. Besides, it would kill her to wait until they reached Oregon.
Would she be able to convince Luke not to wear his gun for his own wedding? Her mind drifted off to fantasizing about that day. What would her dress look like? It was easy to imagine Jake standing up with his brother. Should she ask Helen to stand with her?
What would their life in Oregon be like? Her insides bubbled with anticipation and hope. It would be a good life, she knew it. Oh, surely there would be problems. But as long as she had Luke, things would be tolerable.
No, if she had Luke, life would be better than she could ever hope for.
Helen nudged her in the ribs and nodded to the left. Rebecca almost gasped, Scarlet Perkins was sitting next to Bill Carver. Instead of her normal brightly colored silks, she was dressed in a conservative gingham dress, her hair up in a tight bun, with her hands folded in her lap. What was that all about? she wondered.
She looks nervous, Rebecca thought. As if she was afraid someone was going to ask her to leave. She must make an effort to talk to the woman after the trial. A subtle welcome back to polite society, if you were, Helen and the other women in town might turn their noses up, but Rebecca didn’t care. It seemed the right thing to do.
Rebecca was trying to work out the dynamic between Scarlet and Bill Carver. She had seen them in the crowd together just yesterday. When did they become a couple? How had that even happened? It shook some of her presuppositions about life.
She laughed to herself, a lot of her assumptions about life had been shaken these last few weeks.
A murmur through the crowd drew her attention, she shifted to watch as Joshua and Sarah Felton stepped into the church followed by that Mr. Dawson character. Rebecca’s heart raced as she saw him stare off at Luke. A cold, calculated stare that made her blood run cold.
The three of them sat in the front left pew. Joshua Felton reached forward to pat his brother on the back. Mark Felton looked back then hung his head in shame. He’d brought discredit to the Felton family, never a good thing.
Her mind was yanked back to the present when Luke stepped forward and said with a loud, confident voice, “Come to Order. The Circuit Court of Nevada is in session. All rise for Judge Simmons.”
A door at the rear of the church opened and Judge Simmons stepped in to sit behind the big desk. No robes, just the same suit he’d worn when he arrived in town.
Luke did that so well, she thought to herself, as she and the rest of the crowd waited for the judge to sit down before sitting themselves. Calm, confident. But no one would ever know that he’d practiced in front of her last night. It tickled her deep inside to know that Luke Parker didn’t like speaking in front of crowds. He could do it. But he would never enjoy it. It was nice knowing the man wasn’t perfect.
The Judge pounded the desk with his gavel three times then nodded to Luke.
Luke gave a signal and the main door opened to admit the jury. Twelve men. All of them townsmen, Rebecca realized. No cowboys, no miners. Mr. Strumph and the banker Tuthill led the group to their chairs and sat down.
Everything was so formal. So … serious. As well it should be, she thought.
A quiet fell over the room as the judge glanced down and perused a file of papers. During this entire time, she watched Luke as he continually ran his eyes over the players. First the Feltons, then lingering on Dawson for a moment. Then out over the crowd. A sheepdog, she thought, always vigilant, always prepared for trouble.
“Come to Order,” the judge said as he pounded the desk again with his gavel. “Let’s get